When it comes to controversy in outdoor sports, nothing ever can match the quest for a world-record largemouth bass. Which is why a March 20 catch of a fish that weighed in excess of 25 pounds – nearly 3 pounds more than a hallowed 74-year-old record – has stirred such debate.
The bass MacArthur “Mac” Weakley landed at Dixon Lake, a 70-acre San Diego municipal impoundment, is real. A hand-held scale on which it weighed 25 pounds, 1 once is presumed highly accurate; photos and video reveal a massive, pot-bellied female whose size can’t be questioned.
But the record is not authentic, never will be. The fish was foul-hooked in the side, prompting Weakley to release it without attempting weigh-in on an official scale. But circumstances before and during the catch have prompted a furor sure to continue until a bigger one is made.
In the days following the episode, websites have hummed with millions of hits from enthusiasts eager for news of an event roundly anticipated since a man named George Perry landed a 22-pound, 4-ounce bass at Georgia’s Montgomery Lake in 1932.
Much of the hullabaloo involves whether the bass actually might have made it into the record books. Oddly, the International Game Fish Association allows foul-hooked fish to be accepted as records, provided it wasn’t snagged on purpose. E-mails are running about 50-50 as to whether Weakley should have gone for it. A surprising number shout he’s a fool for spurning a chance at considerable fame and even greater fortune.
To his credit, Weakley is having none of it.
“I feel I did the right thing,” he told the Internet site BassFan News.
Considering the numbers of bass zealots and the intense commercial infrastructure that revolves around the sport, this long has been hailed as the “million-dollar fish,” reflecting endorsements certain to come with a record. Many believe the actual payoff now might be double that.
The hue-in-cry has grown to a howl over the past 15 years, with the introduction of the rapid-growth Florida bass strain to select lakes in Southern California, where they reach enormous size on a diet augmented by stocked trout.
Much like baseball’s home run record, this is the Holy Grail of American fishing. Difference is, it’s the bass that’s on the equivalent of steroids, not the angler. A cadre of record-seekers have been pounding these waters like gold miners seeking the big strike, which is where Weakley and his buddies Jed Dickerson and Mike Winn come in.
Singly and in concert, the trio has been pursuing the ultimate largemouth at Dixon for years. In 2003, Dickerson landed a fish that might have done the trick, pulling a scale to 22 pounds, 9 ounces. It later was recorded officially at 21-11 after witnesses observed it regurgitating food that might have weighed the difference.
In yet another twist, a distinctive marking causes the trio to believe last week’s catch was the same fish, grown larger on Dixon’s lavish buffet.
Anglers catch these beefed-up bass all year, but the pursuit becomes a land rush each spring when giant females migrate to spawning beds in shallow water. That’s where the Dixon quest turned into something of an angling circus.
Another angler, Kyle Malmstrom, actually spotted the monster the previous day, set up shop next to the bed and tried earnestly for a bite. Weakley reportedly offered $1,000 for a half-hour shot at the fish; Dickerson bid five expensive rods. Malmstrom, quick at math and economics, refused. Malmstrom claims the big female actually took his lure at one point, but he missed the hookup.
With the lunker still loose at day’s end, the trio developed an alternative strategy, renting an overnight campsite to gain a beat on the throng that would be waiting for the gate to open the next morning. Detractors later would claim this ploy gave him an unfair advantage. Nevertheless, Weakley, who resides in nearby Carlsbad, staked out the bed and went to work.
Weakley insists the foul-hooking was accidental, a plausible assertion considering the witnesses on hand and the fact such happenings are common when a fish strikes and misses. In any case, a Bob Sangster Rattlesnake Jig wound up impaled in the fish’s side.
The bass was weighed and photographed with Winn, a former charter captain experienced in handling large fish. Then it was released.
Even though an IGFA official said a record application might have gone either way, Weakley should be applauded for his decision. California law requires foul-hooked fish to be released and even if IGFA had overlooked this stricture, the resulting uproar would have turned an honorable record quest into a travesty.
Weakley said he’ll spurn any endorsements and give any cash or equipment sent to him to charity.
“The fish is still alive and swimming out there for someone else to catch it,” he told BassFan News.
And the beat goes on.
Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
